Ugh. I couldn't remember the last time I drank plain milk, but I figured it was better to drink and keep busy than to give her an opportunity to ask any questions.
She wasn't a bad looking woman, and she did seem to have genuine concern for me. I guessed her age to be around 34. Since she was sitting I couldn't guess at how tall she was, but she looked in good shape. Well groomed and just slightly overweight, and then I remembered that this was 1974, the trend to go ultra slim hadn't become popular yet.
She had light brown hair that she wore down, and it covered her shoulders. That was something I had forgotten to check out last night. I had been so busy checking out my new pussy and boobs that I never even thought to see what color my hair was or how long it was. Hell, I might be as ugly as sin!
Trying to do it casually, I ran my fingers over my scalp and trailed them through my hair. It was long - past my shoulders - and from my peripheral vision it looked dark. It felt greasy though.
By the time I got both containers of milk done and had started on the juice my 'dad' came back in. He didn't pretend not to be concerned. "The doctor will be here in just a few minutes, Ann," he said to my 'mother.'
I checked him out. He was maybe 36 and was tall - I figured six feet easy - and with his dark hair cut in a military-style buzz-cut. Well built too, erect stance. Maybe ex-military. Not the kind of guy I'd want to get into a scrap with.
"Didn't he say anything, Mike?" she asked him.
"He didn't want to say anything until he saw Patti himself - said he might run some tests."
Hmm... Mike and Ann Johnson. I could learn a lot if I just kept my mouth shut and listened. Maybe if I had tried that in my other life...
I was finishing my second container of juice when an older man, obviously a doctor based on his white coat and stethoscope, entered. He was carrying a tray similar to the one my 'breakfast' had been delivered on. I nearly laughed out loud when I saw his pants. I had forgotten all about the seersucker days of the 70s. Loud plaid pants over top of a pair of crepe-soled shoes. They squeaked as he walked. He put the tray aside and asked my 'parents' to give us a few minutes alone.
When they had gone, he took the stethoscope and listened to my heart and lungs for a minute. It felt weird. Here was a guy touching my boobs and probing around my new flat belly. I wasn't sure if I should be upset or not, after all, this was my body now! But I remembered there weren't a lot of female doctors in the early 70s, and I had no idea of how a 14-year-old girl would respond to this.
"Patti?" he finally said picking up my chart, "can you tell me what day it is today?"
Shit! I had been scheduled for my surgery on a Monday, the first of September, but my memory was hollering at me that I had busted my knee on the last day in August and that had been a Sunday.
"Tuesday?" I asked, figuring I had spent at least one night in the hospital.
He made a note on the chart and then asked me what month it was. What the hell? I wasn't going to have to play at amnesia, I wasn't sure myself. I shook my head. "Okay Patti, how about we try for the year?"
Now this one should be simple, I mean, I knew that I had busted my leg in '74. "1974?" I said tentatively. That one must have been right 'cause he nodded his head and made another note on my chart.
"And can you tell me what your birth date is?"
Yeah right. I'd had this body for less than a day and he wanted to know the same stuff I did. I shook my head.
"Can you tell me your middle name?"
Oh this was just... fucking... wonderful! He was asking the wrong person those questions. I nearly suggested that he go down the hall and ask Patrick O'Donnell but thought better of it. I wanted to get out of here eventually, but the prospect of ending up in the psych ward was looking more and more like my destination.
I did the only thing I could think of... I started to cry. And they weren't fake tears either. Last night I thought this was a trip. Waking up as a girl, being young again, and knowing what the future held in store, but now, the novelty had become a practical joke, and I was the butt of it.
"There, there," he said in his most soothing bedside manner. "Let's try this instead."
He pulled the tray that he had brought with him closer and I could clearly smell institutional coffee. He uncovered a plastic cup that had a lid, and beside it I could see a couple of containers of non-dairy creamer and sugar cubes. "I understand you wanted a coffee," he said. "I think that will be okay. What do you take in it?"
Yeah... I could see which way this was heading. I couldn't remember my name or my birthday, but I was supposed to know how I took my coffee. Uh, uh. No way! If I told him, that would make everything look really suspicious. I could have told him that I wanted an espresso or latte, and really freaked him out, but in this case, I figured that ignorance would be the wiser route to take.
"I don't know," I said. "I don't even know why I asked for it." I was really hoping he would buy this. Even though I knew it would taste like crap, I really wanted that coffee.
"Okay," he said as he took the tray away. "Let me call your parents back."
"So," he was explaining to 'mom' and 'dad, ' "I think it's temporary amnesia brought on by the anesthetic and the trauma of the burst appendix. We'll have to keep her a little longer than normal - just for observation - but I think as she heals her memory will come back."
Mike and Ann thanked him and he left. 'Dad' said they were going to move me to the Pediatrics Wing since I didn't seem to have any complications from the surgery, and that he and 'mom' would be back to see me later that night. 'Mom' gave me a kiss and told me that everything was going to be okay, and 'dad' squeezed my leg and asked if there was anything I wanted them to bring when they came back. I desperately wanted to ask for 'my' diary, hoping that Patricia Johnson kept one. A pack of smokes would have suited me fine too, but I realized I was getting a second chance. Why screw it up by starting that bad habit again? I gave them my most loving smile and said, "Thanks, but I don't think I need anything."
After they left, I knew that what I really needed was to find myself, or rather my former body. I needed to know more about who I was now.